Not Real
by Fear the Struggle Bus
Summary: Kink prompt: Raven isn't real - a lonely Charles made her up as a child and unconsciously made everyone believe she was real. Everything she does is an unconscious want of Charles. So what happens when Mystique leaves with Erik on the beach? Slash C/E


Kink meme prompt: A situation where Raven isn't real – wherea lonely young Charles made her up, believes she's real as he wanted nothing more than to have another like him. And he's so powerful that unconsciously he can manipulate everyone's thoughts to believe she's really there. So her hitting on Erik could be Charles's unconscious wish to. Also her leaving with Erik, as a part of him would like to. What happens! Does Mystique disappear at some point? Is he powerful enough to keep the illusion going?

Happy/not, slash/het/gen, whatever!

A/N – So I found this on LiveJournal and it caught my attention so I decided to take a shot at it. I'm sure yet whether to update it regularly. So tell me what you think, will yah? I'm new to writing X-men stories. Remember, everything about Raven here is actually some part of Charles.

I'm going to go with a happy ending here and definitely slash – after all, the prompt practically said it in itself. Newly revised – enjoy!

**~X~**

The entire mansion was like one big cage. The curtains stayed closed in silent mourning, keeping out any happiness or light. The endless walls and twists and turns trapped them inside. Nothing moved anymore and the maids were like ghosts floating down the walls, silent and unseen. The only chance the outside world had to enter this place was when the maids left at night to go home and when they came in right before dawn. The rest of the time the mansion was like an island, all alone in the middle of a sea of pain.

Charles hadn't seen his mother in weeks. He'd last caught sight of her at the funeral and after that she'd made herself scarce, locking herself away from existence in her bedroom with a crate of scotch bottles. If Charles lingered outside the door he could catch a whiff of the scent of alcohol.

Charles had taken to copying his mother, minus the alcohol part. At first he'd stayed in his room, his door closed but not locked, and tried to get better. Charles had been mourning, because his father was his everything all his life and it would have been hard to let him go even if he wasn't, but he'd recovered. He's better now and all he wants is to move on, to feel happiness again.

But the world wasn't complying. It'd taken endless weeks of doing absolutely nothing, but Charles slowly realized that his mother wasn't recovering and doesn't want to be happy again. She wants to stay depressed, pained, _alone_ the rest of her life and was willing to drag her son down with her to accomplish it.

But Charles doesn't want to live like that.

Charles wants his mother to get better like he has. He wants his mom to be herself again, relatively cheerful and polite and alive. But she's nearly as dead as his father these days.

His telepathy wasn't helping. Those first few nights after the funeral, his grief, anger, and pain were unbearable and he couldn't to stop projecting. His mother had been too upset or drunk – or both – to notice, but all the maids and their few butlers were sobbing zombies the entire time.

At night his dreams were horrible mixes of his grief and his mother's grief, tinged with both their pain like icing on an already excruciating cake. Neither had been able to get any real sleep until Charles had retaken control of his powers and kept his emotions bottled up until he got better. He's just thankful nobody suspected those days had anything to do with him.

Nobody knew about his powers and nobody ever could. Nothing good would come of normal humans knowing.

But still! How wonderful would it be to have someone like him to fight off the suffocating loneliness? Someone he could relate to and could relate to him, and they could share their secret from the world together. They could be a united front against the unaccepting world and together, they would change it until neither of them would have to hide ever again. Until that day came they would be friends though it all and support each other. They would never be alone.

He would never be alone.

Charles sighed from his position on his bed, his knees up against his chest and arms wrapped around himself. He was a child and like all children, he just wanted a friend. Preferably someone like him. He couldn't be the only one with strange powers, could he?

"No," Charles whispered aloud to himself. He couldn't believe that. If he really was the only one…he would always be alone. Always. He wouldn't be able to survive that.

The shadows bubbled ominously and Charles shivered. Their bubbly fingers rose from the floor, crooked and misshapen. The fingers contorted into crooked claws with sharp hooks, and Charles scooted backwards on his bed in a desperate attempt to get away. He'd been desperately fighting off these monstrous claws but they'd been slowly creeping in closer, trying to drag him into the depths of insanity and eat him alive. They always appeared from the darkest corners of the room – _of his mind_ – when he was at his loneliest.

_No!_ Charles thought, gaining a flicker of courage. He'd fought these imagined enemies off before and he could continue to do it. It was all in his head and _he_ was the one in control of his thoughts, not the other way around.

There were others like him. There were. He could not be alone, a single malfunction in the genetic code. He couldn't be a single freak of nature, a lone mutant against a world of humans.

He had to believe that with all his heart or the dark claws would rip his mind to shreds and drive him completely mad. It was the only way for him to stay sane.

Or maybe this silence has already driven him insane. He can't tell anymore, too blinded by the darkness that is trying to consume his life.

He managed to go to sleep a while later, more because he doesn't want to stay conscious any longer than a need to rest. He doesn't even notice that he's curled up around himself, clutching his blanket for dear life.

_~X~_

It is the dead of night when Charles awakes to a sound. He groans out loud; his eyes blearily open. Charles can't remember the last time his paranoid mind has let his sleep this long and it's a blessing. He doesn't feel rested but he was never tired in the first place; only scared and determined not to let the loneliness kill him.

It can't have him.

Something pricks at the edge of his mind and Charles had the strangest urge to get some milk. His head hurt but it was nothing some aspirin couldn't solve. He'd learned that medicine works well for mutant-power-induced headaches a long time ago. He hasn't eaten for two days anyway, so a midnight snack couldn't hurt.

Charles slipped out of bed, glad he decided to leave his pajamas on when he went to sleep instead of stripping down to his boxers. His throat really is dry and he wouldn't feel like getting dressed just to get a glass of milk. Charles quietly left his bedroom and padded down the hall, not noticing that his curtains, so tightly shut when he'd gone to sleep, are wide open to where you can the night sky perfectly. The moon lets in more light than the sun has done in weeks.

As Charles got closer and closer to his destination – the kitchen – he hears the sound of movement, things clanging and unscrewed. He slowed his steps and turned the corner to see dim light shining out of the doorway to the kitchen.

Charles stopped. Something wasn't right here. All the maids were at their homes and his mother hasn't left her room in so long – she only gets food because the maids deliver it to her rooms. His father is dead and Charles is right here. There's no one left.

Someone is here who shouldn't be.

Charles acts fast, doing his best to stay as silent as possible so the intruder won't know he's there. He dashed on invisible feet to his bedroom and grabs the baseball bat his parents had made him keep in the closet for emergencies. Then he ran back, still oblivious to the moon in his window.

Charles comes to a stop a few feet from the doorway, panting slightly. The noises of someone going through things are still coming from the kitchen and Charles took a deep breath to steady himself. Then he raised the bat in a defensive stance, ready to swing.

He stepped into the kitchen and froze.

His mother was bent over in front of the fridge, going through the food in there and eating with the sort of bad manners that she'd kill Charles for using. She's eating like a starved dog and for a moment Charles doesn't understand what's going on, only he's glad it's just his mother and not some thief.

"What are you-"Charles begins and then cuts himself off, still confused. But his shoulders have relaxed and the bat has dropped to where it's now scrapping against the floor as he walked cautiously towards his mother.

He frowned to himself. She was dressed oddly for this time at night. In a dress and pearls, her blonde hair perfectly curled, Charles would have thought she was going out if it wasn't one o'clock at night. She clearly isn't drunk, which is really, _really_ odd because every time he'd entered his mother's mind since his father's death there was a clouding haze of alcohol consuming it. She doesn't even look slightly tipsy.

His feet stop only a few feet away from her, his mind still confused. "I thought you were a burglar." He complains because really, what's wrong with her?

Now Charles is a bit irritated – his mother ignores him for several weeks straight, preferring to drink herself silly and forget about him, only to come out perfectly coherent at night to get food and not bother to be so during the day so she could spend time with him? How fair is that?

Charles Xavier isn't one to often complain, but here he has a right to. _Is she really that cruel without dad here? Is she so cruel to be drunk when I'm awake and not when I'm sleeping?_ Then a horrible thought struck him – did she know he was a freak and was doing this avoid him in the nicest way possible without outright acknowledging it?

Charles shook his head, getting rid of that awful thought. No, he'd been too careful and his mother hadn't been overly observant even when his father was alive.

She turned to face him and Charles doesn't need his telepathy to know the smile on her face is fake. After all, all her smiles are fake.

"I didn't mean to scare you darling, I was only getting a snack. Go back to bed." His mother soothes. But Charles had caught her in the act – he'd seen the way she'd stuffed that food into her mouth like a wild boar – and can't believe her. He's smart enough to know when he's being lied to without using his telepathy.

And his mother never calls him 'darling' anymore.

Charles can feel the apprehension show on his face. Something pricks the edge of his mind again and Charles winces slightly, trying to ignore it and failing.

"What's the matter?" She asked, her smiles growing painfully fake and fear shining beneath her eyes. He can feel it radiate from her. She's worried and that worries him.

His mother leaned towards him, all tight smiles and fearful emotions filling him that he's pretty sure aren't his. "I'll make you hot chocolate." She promises.

Charles takes an instant step back, shaking his head insistently. "Who are you?"

Her fake smile drops instantly and the pricking in his mind has turned to faint stabbing.

His eyes flick over to the picture on the wall, the one of him and his mother last summer standing outside the mansion. He recognizes the dress and pearls, right down to the shoes. His eyes widened and he turned back to her, gripping the baseball bat tighter than before.

"Who are you and what have you done with my mother?" He demands, louder now. This is not the drunken, depressed woman he knows.

_My mother has never set foot in this kitchen in her life._ He mentally projects, his voice dark. The fake cringes and clutches her head, eyes looking around wildly. _And she certainly never made me hot chocolate._

The mental stabbing continues. Charles feels like clutching his head but he's too focused on the fake to do anything about his headache besides cringe and bear it.

And then the fake changed appearances, literally _shape shifting_ into a girl a few years younger than him with blue scaly skin, golden eyes, and unnatural cherry hair.

Charles stills. It's like all his dreams are coming true as he watches her transform. _She's a mutant like me…I'm not alone. _The whole world brightens suddenly and all the fears and loneliness disintegrate into dust. He's not a lone freak of nature. She's just like him, only different too. But he can deal with that, because now he has that companion that his entire being has been yearning for ever since his powers showed up.

_I'm not alone._

The thought brings a smile to his face and weight off his heart. He doesn't even notice the stabbing pain in his head anymore, he's so happy.

She looked nervously at him, like he'll reject her any moment now because she's different. Her golden eyes more fear than Charles has ever seen in anyone in his life.

"You're not…s-scared of me?" She whispered. She's like a field mouse, ready to run at the first bad sign.

"I always believed I couldn't be the only one in the world." He replies, still amazed. She was magnificent, everything Charles could have asked for in a companion and friend if he'd known what to ask. She's the most perfect person he's ever met and he can feel his joy clearly showing on his face.

How silly of him to ever doubt she existed in the first place. The possibilities of him being the only one with powers in the entire world are too preposterous to even begin with. He should have known. He's not alone; not anymore at least.

Charles spotted her mystified expression and explained, "The only person who was…different. And here you are."

His heartbeat pounded in his chest, drowning out his headache. They will be the best of friends – he just knows it. He will never have to feel that loneliness again. Charles knew then that he would do everything he could to prevent anything from hurting her; she was his hope and defense, and in turn deserved defending.

Charles stuck out his hand proudly, already determined to convince her to stay. "Charles Xavier."

She was achingly shy and slowly inched her hand out to meet his. When their hands touched his headache spiked, but he instinctually repressed a wince – he couldn't let her think it was contact with her smooth, scaly skin that made him pained or uncomfortable. So Charles ignored the pain and pushed himself to focus on his surroundings.

"Raven," she replied, gaining a bit of confidence.

Charles's smile is blinding.

_~X~_

"S-stay?" Raven choked out.

They sat in Charles's room, both of them sprawled out on Charles's huge bed. They've spent the past few hours swapping stories, Raven telling him about how she'd lived on the streets for as long as she could remember and how she'd always been naturally blue. She was young, about five or so years younger by their combined best guesses, and that only increased Charles's determination to protect his only true companion at all costs. He was, after all, the big brother in this situation.

"Yes," Charles whispered, his blue eyes shining in the moonlight. He could see it already. "You can stay here, with me. We're the same, you and me, and together we can protect our secrets from the world and take care of each other, like how siblings do. You can be my baby sister and I can be your big brother."

_And I'll never be lonely again. You'll never be lonely again._ He wants to say, but doesn't.

"You – you're like me?" Raven exclaimed, though her voice is muted. She's still incredibly nervous about everything here no matter how much Charles reassured her that no one was going to throw her out or kill her for her mutation.

Charles has never been more proud of his mutation. He'd managed to get an aspirin while in the kitchen and take it behind Raven's back, so his headache was waning too.

"I am," Charles said grinning. He can't get the grin off his face, not that he wants too. He's way too happy to do anything else. "I'm a telepath. That means I can read people's minds."

That was really the most simplistic way he could explain what he could do but it still left Raven wide eyed and amazed. "Really?" She whispered, like he'd just told her greatest secret of the universe.

Charles nods. Raven looks at him in awe and Charles couldn't be happier.

"I can make my mother and the maids think you're my sister and you're been living with us the whole time, no problem. You'll get all the food you want-" Charles can see her ribs poking out from her time on the streets and his heart lifts when she looks at him with even more awe. "-and you won't have to constantly move around and we can be safe, the both of us."

"Safe," Raven murmured, golden eyes huge and glowing with gratefulness. It's almost a prayer and Charles can't help being happy and proud that's he's made his new companion so happy.

"Yes," Charles agrees. He glanced out the window, the curtain strangely open, to the moon and ignored how his headache spikes when he grabs Raven's hand to give it a comforting squeeze. "We'll be safe together and never alone. You'll never be alone again Raven."

_I'll never be alone again._

Charles can't help being grateful that Raven walked into his life just when he needed her the most. He gave a mental thanks to whatever being would take it, not sure who exactly was responsible for this miracle. Raven would keep him sane and alive. The shadows will never grab at him and try to tear apart his mind ever again. The loneliness will never drown him beneath its depths. With Raven, his little sister, by his side, Charles can finally be happy again after his father's death.

Raven busted into messy tears, clutching onto Charles and sobbing about how grateful she was, how she never wanted to leave and how she would so very happy to be able to call him her brother. She choked out how she'd never had someone to depend on before, someone she could lean on, and Charles found himself crying too, thinking about how they could lean on each other from now on. They fell asleep that way, clutching each other on top of his bed, his headache painful but ignored.

It takes several weeks for the constant headache to go away but it doesn't stop him from being near Raven twenty-four seven. And after it finally goes away and Raven's a full-fledged member of his family as far as the rest of the world is concerned, Charles finally lets the last of his loneliness go. He will never be so lonely again.

Raven seems to do the same just around the same time. For the first time, life is great.

**~X~**

~I'm not exactly sure where to go with this but I just want to see if anyone wants me to keep going. I'll try not to follow the movie _too_ closely but not make them out of character either. Please review!

~For I Will Run You Over


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